The Strain: Another Season - Episode Five - But not for everyone
by Rosie Brook-Meade
Summary: The 5th "episode" in the series. As a girl, Sandra Edwards was kind and fearless - but also giddy and annoying. Now, she's a cold, hard b!tch with no value for any human life. Bar one! Whose? Why? And why does she want to preserve the Master? Team Setrakian pursue the Lumen and seek Gus' help. The strigoi hold a ceremony.
1. Chapter 1

The Strain: Another Season  
Episode 5

...But not for everyone  
Chapter One

 **Author's note: Right it's time for a quickie. Must…stay…ahead…of TV show. By now you'll have spotted that my episode titles are cheesy reflections of those of season 1. Can't apologise enough…**

 **May save my nitpicking and oohs, aahs and "I larve heem!"s over Silver Angel until I've put a couple of episodes between me and the TV scheduling. Also sorry about the rushed delivery.**

 **I have referred to Vaun as Quinlan throughout this episode until I work out what the hell to do about him. January 2016 update - have now gone back and changed all references to Quinlan before Four Nervous Vendors (episode 8) to "Vaun".**

* * *

Fet's place, Red Hook, Brooklyn

It's late afternoon and most of the household are gathered in the living area watching a re-run of Friends. It seems ffinch-Myles is playing by the book. For now.

Keane is playing on a DS and Audrey and Zack are staring out of the window talking quietly to each other. Zack is bringing Audrey out of her shell and has even won a smile or two for his efforts. Zack, in his turn, is throwing admiring glances whenever he thinks she isn't looking.

Setrakian is in a corner poring over the few books he managed to salvage from the pawn shop.

Eph is drinking Scotch and flicking through the photo album that Zack made them go back to Kelly's house for. Nora is smoking out of another window, giving Zack some privacy and watching Eph wistfully.

Neeva is in the kitchen area, cooking and humming a soulful tune, quietly though, so as not to disturb Dutch. She is on the laptop and getting visibly more irritated with it.

Fet is watching her from the railings above and chewing a cigar they found in Luss' study.

Suddenly, Dutch explodes with frustration. 'Aarggh! It's no f*cking good,' she screams, throwing the computer across the room. 'Stupid cheap piece of crap,' she yells at it.

Fet gallops down the stairs and picks it up. 'Hey!' he says. 'That's our only computer.'

'Sorry,' says Dutch, pushing her hair out her eyes as she paces. 'But we're never gonna find this guy with that. I need something faster - more powerful.'

She stops and faces him. 'To tell the truth, I need FBI-grade facial recognition tech. Or access to a tattoo database.'

Setrakian is now leaning over the railings. 'Maybe we should just get out and search the streets,' he suggests. 'We know he lives near my old shop. Let's start there.'

'Gonna take a while to drive to Harlem and back,' cautions Fet. 'And it'll be dark soon. We should wait 'til morning.'

But Setrakian is already pulling his coat on when the doorbell goes. The Force have returned.

They are still introducing themselves and trying to prevent Setrakian going out on his own when Dutch calls through, 'Is that the cops back again? Good. Maybe they can help out with this.'

She brings them up to view the recorded footage of blurry Gus. Dutch points to his neck in each shot and says, 'He has this leaf tattoo on his neck. I wondered if you could ID him from it.'

'That's not a leaf,' scoffs Bartoli. 'That's a wolf's head.'

Dutch shrugs. 'Makes much more sense for a banger's ink.'

'I might be able to help,' says Bartoli. 'I check back in at the precinct every now and then. Means I keep my badge and gun. You should too,' she turns and advises the other officers. 'I'll do some research tonight and let you know.'

'On two conditions,' she adds. 'You share some silver…'

'And two?' prompts Fet.

'Grandpa here,' she says, indicating a growling Setrakian. 'He's grounded 'til I get back to you…or 'til morning – if anything happens to me.'

* * *

Beneath the Black Forest Meatpacking Facility

The huge underground cavern from the first episode is packed with _strigoi_ standing before a raised platform. The long cage has been replenished and is once again packed with screaming humans. The still crispy Master silences them with the same deep throbbing rumble and raises his arms. He addresses his minions telepathically. Eichhorst stands on his right hand side, slightly behind him.

 _For aeons I have roamed the world alone, only rarely exalting one or, exceptionally, two of my children to the rank of Chosen. To these blessed ones are restored their own identities - their own thoughts and voices. They are selected for particular tasks based upon their gifts and fortes in their inferior animal lives. In recent times, I have chosen for a flair for cruelty and vice, the ability to manage mortals and knowledge in running death farms._

 _Now is a unique moment in our glorious history. Now I shall have three Chosen. Now I honour YOU…_

Without prompting, the Kelly Goodweather vampire ascends to the dais and kneels before the Master.

… _And YOU._

Gabriel Bolivar, still in fright wig and light blue contacts, follows Kelly and kneels beside her.

 _Kelly, my daughter, receive this blessing._

He places his hand on the crown of Kelly's now bald head and commands her…

 _Rise and bring your Loved Ones to me._

'Zack will be ours, my Master,' she says aloud.

He turns his attention to the rock star.

 _Gabriel, my son, receive this blessing._

Bolivar removes the wig and the Master performs the same action, intoning…

 _You are selected for your fame. Your forte is manipulating a crowd through your music. In the light of Herr Eichhorst's unexpected and, I trust, unwanted notoriety…_

He glances at the studiously impassive face behind him.

… _You are to eclipse his exposure by raising your own profile – higher than before. You are to hold a new concert – bigger, bolder, wilder than anything these humans have experienced before._

'I desire to serve, Lord,' says Bolivar.

 _Eichhorst will assist you both in the minutiae of these schemes._

He half turns to the German but doesn't look at, or address, him again. Eichhorst lowers his head in submission and starts to say something about obeisance but the Master cuts him off and raises his arms once more.

 _Now for the feasting…_

A number of bound and gagged young men, all naked, are led onto the platform for the Master and his Chosen while the long cage is opened and the terrified inhabitants goaded out into the chamber with spears and stingers for the rank and file vampires to devour.


	2. Chapter 2

The Strain: Another Season  
Episode 5

...But not for everyone  
Chapter Two

* * *

Fet's place, Red Hook, Brooklyn

It's late in the afternoon when Captain Bartoli drops off the Elizaldes' address. She doesn't linger, wanting to prepare for another night watch. Eph stays behind to guard Zack and Dutch says, 'I'm going to stay and try another approach. Just in case the manhunt draws a blank.'

'Like what?' asks a dubious Eph.

'I'm going to try and hack Palmer's bank accounts and either freeze them or preferably divert the money to our cause.'

'That's actually a good idea,' he concedes.

* * *

East 115th Street, Harlem  
Apartment 606

Fet, Nora and Setrakian find the door unlocked and enter the apartment.

They all cover their noses and Fet says, 'That's not just muncher shit. That's decompos…' and he stumbles over Crispin Elizalde's corpse.

He turns the body with his rebar and grunts appreciatively, 'Does a good job, this kid.'

They hear the nickering of a hungry _strigoi_ and Mrs Elizalde rushes them. Between them, Fet and Setrakian trip her and both raise their weapons to "release" her when Nora yells, 'Wait!'

They look at her, Fet's foot keeping the vampire down and his rebar pinning the stinger so it can't reach anyone.

'She must be his mother. Why don't we let her track her Loved One?'

* * *

Mortlake England February 1609

A soberly dressed young man, resembling Mark Gatiss in a beard, calls at the Dee house.

A tall plain woman invites him in.

'Miss Dee, I presume,' says the caller with a French accent.

The woman nods and the caller introduces himself. 'Rabbi Avigdor Levy at your service, Mistress. We have been corresponding concerning your late father's estate. In particular, his manuscripts and books.'

'Yes sir,' says Miss Dee. 'Thank you for travelling so far to meet me. I apologise that there are no servants to wait on us here but my father left his affairs in some disarray.'

Levy graciously waves this aside. 'Miss Dee,' he says, 'I have no wish to be in indelicate haste but I have an especial interest in some ancient carved tablets I believe your father to have been in possession of.'

'Oh, those,' says Miss Dee sourly. 'I will be glad to see them out of the house. They consumed his life, Rabbi, sucked the joy and vitality from him. I pray they will not do the same to yours.'

She leads him to the library.

'He was never able to decipher a single symbol,' she sighs. 'He was so obsessed towards the end that he even started to sleep with them.'

Levy opens the silver chest and tenderly removes a tablet. He too gives it a lover's look.

'Oh yes,' says Miss Dee. 'I remember _that_ look.'

'It's Sumerian, of course,' says Levy and the woman gives him a look of grudging admiration.

The Rabbi gives her two huge chinking pouches.

'You will take the whole library then?' she assumes as she counts the gold coins.

'That is just for the tablets and their silver chest, Mistress,' he says. 'And I have still had the best of the deal. I bid you good day.'

* * *

Spanish Harlem Present day

The team are prowling the (luckily) quiet streets of Harlem with a snarling Guadalupe Elizalde restrained by means of two sturdy dog choke-chains held on either side of her by Fet and Setrakian. There is a thick leather belt about her waist, pinning her arms to her sides and she's wearing a baseball faceguard to keep her stinger in check. Fet occasionally "encourages" her with his steel rod. Nora is following with a disapproving look on her face.

There's a siren and a police car pulls up behind them.

'What's going on here?' asks the cop who gets out.

'Just taking our pet for a walk,' says Fet. 'She chews the furniture if she doesn't get enough exercise.'

'What the hell?' says the cop as he clocks their "pet". He draws his weapon and his partner joins him. 'Woah!' she exclaims. 'You just can't pull that kind of shit. What were you thinking?'

While the men are distracted, Guadalupe lunges towards Fet, against Setrakian's older, weaker arms. She bowls the surprised exterminator over and makes a break for freedom.

The first cop shouts, 'Freeze, NYPD.' And follows the warning with several shots, none of which hit her in the head. They don't even slow her down but one nicks the belt and, freeing her arms, she tears the faceguard off and makes off down an alleyway.

'Idiots,' yells Setrakian and follows her. The police officers look confused and Nora steps in front of the gun with her hands on her head. 'Please,' she says. 'Don't shoot an old man. He wasn't doing anything wrong.'

The male cop stares into Nora's imploring chocolate-brown eyes and lowers his weapon. Nora moves onto the partner. 'Please help us,' she says. 'The woman is infected with this zombie plague. She's beyond help and she's very dangerous. Radio Captain Bartoli at the eighty-fourth precinct if you don't believe me.'

Fortunately they do believe her because Bartoli is out on night patrol by now.

They catch up with Setrakian who, despite breathing heavily, still has eyes on Mrs Elizalde.

She shins over an eight foot wall with broken bottles set in the top, bringing the pursuit to a halt.

From over the wall they hear swearing and the sound of gunfire and, unusually for third millennium Spanish Harlem, swordplay.

'Boost me,' Setrakian orders Fet, gamely putting his sword cane in his teeth.

Fet seems about to refuse and put himself in Setrakian's place but he looks at the old man, Nora and the two slight police officers and clearly reasons that no one could lift him. He sighs as he kneels and offers his linked hands.

Setrakian shreds his fingerless gloves and some skin on the way over but his troubles really start when he lands on the other side.

Gus and Creem's men have dispatched a nest of vampires in a garage. Vaun is not with them tonight. Gus has Guadalupe at bay and has just ordered the others not to harm her.

He glares at Setrakian, re-aiming his gun from his mother to the old man. 'You do this, _puto_?' he snarls, disgusted. 'You tie up my _madre_ like a rabid beast?'

Guadalupe takes advantage of the confusion to escape over the rooftops.

Between wheezes, Setrakian explains, 'I needed your help.'

Gus stares at him in furious disbelief.

* * *

The Ancients' Facility

Setrakian must have been persuasive because Gus has brought him here in one piece, albeit a bound, hooded and weaponless piece.

The hood is whipped off revealing a scowling Gus standing beside Vaun who is regarding the old man with his head cocked, assessing him.

'Untie him,' he tells Gus, who reluctantly obeys.

His hands free, Setrakian launches himself at Vaun's throat, snarling, _'Strigoi_!'

He is even less successful than Gus was, Vaun easily throwing him aside. He goes again and this time is thrown to the floor and kept there with a Vaun boot on his chest.

Gus looks down at him with grudging respect. 'You got _cojones_ , old man,' he says. 'I'll give you that. But you gotta listen to him. He hates the Master as much as you. Now, you gonna meet some that can help you get your freaky fairytale book. Easier than stealing it, too.'

Setrakian is brought before the Ancients and Vaun speaks for them.

'They know you seek the Silver Codex,' says Vaun. 'The item you refer to as the _Occido Lumen_.'

'Do they know the Master is after it too?' ask Setrakian.

Vaun nods.

'He might get it this time,' warns Setrakian. 'He has aligned with a human. A wealthy one. They are poised to gain possession of it.'

'They know of this alliance.'

'This tome contains knowledge that is dangerous to you also,' says Setrakian. 'If it will tell me how to kill the Master, it will surely tell _him_ how to kill you.'

All three Ancients twitch in their meditative stillness.

'They have tried destroying it throughout history,' says Vaun. 'I have tracked it myself for centuries. I have killed and burned, tortured and destroyed. Yet the Codex survives and appears at auction house after sale room after house clearance.'

'Why not do as the Master has and employ a human bidder?'

'That would risk exposure,' says Vaun. 'Power revealed is power diminished.'

They stare at each other for a time.

'But _you_ are already acquainted with them,' says Vaun pointedly.

'Because I have sought to destroy them all, along with the Master,' says Setrakian. 'And I have come close in the past. Remember?' The old man smirks directly at the Ancients.

 _TAKE HIM AWAY!_ The telepathic command booms loud in all their minds and Setrakian is bundled out unceremoniously and transferred to Gus' custody.

'You just don't know when to shut the f*ck up, do ya old man?' he says, now openly admiring Setrakian.

Vaun joins them shortly. ' _You_ will be their representative at the auction,' he states. 'You will utilise their limitless financial resources to bring it to them. Then, as your reward, you will be permitted to join their immortal aristocracy.'

'Become _strigoi_?,' scorns Setrakian. 'A blood-sucking monster? I will never align myself with such filth.' He spits at Vaun. 'They can shove their _resources_ right up their...'

'Woah! Easy there, Alzheimer's,' intervenes Gus. 'Time to get you home for your medication and a nice little nap.'

Gus steps in front of the incensed Vaun and, pulling the hood back on, he pushes Setrakian backwards out of the room.

* * *

Fet's place, Red Hook, Brooklyn

Gus's beast-mobile pulls up on the street. He removes Setrakian's hood a trifle gingerly, as if it were a muzzle on a pit bull.

'How can you stand to fight alongside him?' says Setrakian, disgusted.

'I'm fighting this my way, O.G.,' replies Gus. 'You do it your way.'

Setrakian snorts and Gus says, 'Stealing from Sotheby's is way out of my league, man. But I'll help you any way I can.'

He reaches into the glove compartment and pulls out a phone, still in its box. 'Use this to contact me,' he says. 'And here's my number. There's a limited cell service coming back. No photos or internet yet but you can get a message through. Eventually.'

Inside, Dutch watches Setrakian return and head straight for his room, brushing aside the concern of Nora and Fet with extra curmudgeon. She looks at her laptop and sighs. Then, while no one's looking, she sneaks out into the night.


	3. Chapter 3

The Strain: Another Season  
Episode 5

...But not for everyone  
Chapter Three

* * *

Red Hook, Brooklyn  
The dark streets near Richards Street

Dutch has gone one block down to a CCTV camera that's still flashing. Checking to either side, she stares straight up at it. 'I know you're watching me, Mr ffinch-Myles,' she says, enunciating clearly, in case there's no audio. 'And I know you're on our side. We need your help to get the Lumen.'

* * *

Fet's place, Red Hook, Brooklyn  
Later that night

The evening meal is over and Setrakian has recovered his spirits sufficiently to begin teaching Neeva and the Luss children the basics of _S_ _trigoi_ lore. Zack is "helping" and all five are in the basement kitchen area. Dutch has been driven upstairs to the girls' dorm for the quiet necessary to concentrate on the computer and Fet is keeping her company but silently - while pretending to read his _Real Estate_ magazines. Eph and Nora have no interest in either group's activities and have retreated to the front, the shop area. Eph is enjoying an after dinner drink and Nora has the door ajar so she can smoke and still chat to Eph.

Suddenly, Sandra Edwards pushes past her and struts into the shop flanked by two suited beefcakes. She glances dismissively at the stunned doctors and continues through, into the kitchen area. She's wearing a trouser suit and high heels, with a blood red scarf about her neck.

Eph runs after them and Nora throws the cigarette outside and hurriedly locks up before following him. Eph calls upstairs, 'Fet! You have…er…customers…'

Fet and Dutch look at each other, she raises her eyebrows and he shrugs before galloping downstairs.

Setrakian looks up from the lesson books and peers at Sandra. He double takes as recognition dawns.

'Miss Edwards?' he exclaims, standing up. 'It can't be. I thought you were dead. Or worse.' He looks her up and down. 'You grew up,' he adds and the realisation makes him beam.

'Sandra - please,' she smiles, 'Professor Setrakian it is wonderful to see you again - looking so well.' She extends a hand to for him to shake but he turns it over instead and kisses it gallantly, bringing a smile as broad and sunny as his. 'And as handsome and charming as ever.'

The others exchange glances and raised eyebrows. Fet mouthes 'Professor?' and, nodding in Sandra's direction, pulls the Shrek face from when Princess Fiona makes fried eggs for breakfast.

Setrakian frankly stares, examining Sandra's face as well as the outfit and entourage.

Eph coughs loudly.

'Oh my apologies,' he says. 'Miss Edwards…er, Sandra – Dr Ephraim Goodweather and his son Zack, Dr Nora Martinez, Mrs Neeva Aristil and her adopted children Audrey and Keane Luss and Vasiliy Fet the owner of this establishment.

Sandra smiles around at everyone and introduces the boys as Richard and Karl.

Setrakian concludes the introductions. 'And this is Miss Sandra Edwards,' he pauses for a beat. 'An old friend.'

'Professor – obviously this is not just a reunion social call,' says Sandra. 'We can be of use to each other.' She takes an uninvited seat opposite Setrakian.

'You want vast amounts of money to buy the _Occido Lumen.._.' she says to gasps and whispered 'How the hell's from Nora and Eph.

Sandra ignores them and pushes on. '...And I want two things.'

She counts on her fingers. 'One. I need Cornelia to be kept somewhere safe - far from here.'

Eph interrupts. 'Who's Cornelia?'

'There _is_ nowhere safe anymore,' adds Nora.

Sandra ignores them again. ' And two. You don't kill the Master until I have dealt with Eichhorst.'

There is general and loud opposition to this along the lines of…'No way. He killed my mother!'; 'He turned my wife!'; 'He is the source of all this evil' and 'If we get an opportunity we're gonna take it. And if Eichhorst gets in the way - he's going down.'

Sandra waits calmly for it all to die down. 'Professor,' she asks Setrakian. 'If the Occido Lumen does show you the way to destroy the Master, what will happen to Eichhorst?'

'He will cease to exist. As would all the Master's spawn.'

Zack's face falls but no one notices.

'In an instant, yes?' says Sandra. Setrakian nods.

'One moment he is vital in strength and pride,' she says. 'Surrounded by all the opulence and power his shrivelled little heart desires. The next, poof! He's gone – less than dust on the wind? It's not justice.'

'I think you're more obsessed with revenge than justice,' says Eph.

Sandra straightens to her feet and reiterates coolly, 'Cornelia is safe. Eichhorst is mine. Those are my terms.'

Setrakian pulls the Sotheby's catalogue out from under the lesson book and turns to the dog-eared entry concerning the _Occido Lumen_. 'I know how that vengeful fire feels, Miss Edwards,' he says. 'And we do need this book.'

'Not that I wouldn't enjoy watching someone wipe the self-satisfied smile off that son of a bitch's face,' says Fet. 'But why Eichhorst in particular?'

'He drank me,' Sandra says baldly, whisking the scarf off to reveal dozens of stinger scars over both carotids. In an instant, a porcupine of silver weaponry is drawn against her. Her guards draw too.

'STRIGOI!' bellows Setrakian, furious at being tricked into accepting Sandra at face value. The others all gasp. 'You've grown up but you haven't grown old _enough_ ,' he snarls. 'When were you turned? Fifteen years ago, I'd guess.'

'You can talk about not ageing, Professor,' she retorts. 'You don't even look eighty?'

Setrakian narrows his eyes but doesn't respond so Sandra slowly reaches for the nearest weapon, which is Fet's sword and, holding his gaze, grasps the blade. She looks each of the others in the eye in turn before returning to Fet's stare and lasciviously licking his sword. Fet's eyes widen and he swallows hard but no one lowers their weapon, so she glances at Setrakian and raises an eyebrow.

'Continue,' he says.

'Eichhorst drank me. Night after night. For MONTHS.'

She looks at them all again.

'Didn't you know he could do this?,' she asks. 'Feed without turning?'

The stand-off remains, making Sandra sigh. 'And he's killed everyone I've ever loved,' she adds. 'Except Cornelia, of course.'

'Just who _IS_ CORNELIA?' the team chorus.

...As Dutch arrives from upstairs yelling, 'I am _trying_ to work up there.' She catches sight of Sandra and stops dead. 'Mum?' she whispers hoarsely.

Sandra is suddenly shy, nervous and visibly affected by the meeting.

Dutch takes a step forward and stops.

Sandra closes the gap. 'Cornelia, darling,' she sobs, now openly weeping. 'I'm so, so very sorry for everything…Are you well? Happy? You look well. Are you happy? Still with Nikki?'

Sandra reaches out to take her daugher's hand but Dutch snatches it away. 'No, I'm not still with Nikki,' she says tightly. 'She was a victim of this vampire plague. And anyway, you chose Fraser over me – so don't go pretending you care all of a sudden.' And she storms off upstairs again.

'Cornelia? Neely!' Sandra calls after her. She goes to follow but thinks better of it.

'Aaah!,' says Fet. ' _That's_ Cornelia! Well, I will guarantee to keep her as safe as I can but I don't think she'll go anywhere now – she wants to right her wrongs.'

'Besides,' says Eph. 'We need her.'

'I'm afraid it's true,' confirms Setrakian. 'Even with your millions...'

'Billions...' corrects Sandra.

'Billions...' nods Setrakian, 'Palmer's pockets are deeper. We shall need to dam his cashflow during the auction.'

Dutch doesn't go all the way back to her room – only out of sight behind the living area railings. She listens to the rest of the conversation.

'It is vital that Cornelia is kept as far away from Eichhorst as possible,' says Sandra. 'In particular, it is _paramount_ that Eichhorst NEVER learns that she is my daughter. So Eldritch Palmer must never find out and neither can any vampire of the Master's strain.'

'Why?' asks Eph.

'I was kept because my blood is apparently the sanguine equivalent of _foie gras_...or the finest Islay malt. If he knew I had a daughter, he would want to taste her too. That's why I let my second husband drive her away from me after Bart's death. It nearly destroyed me to watch her love for me turning to hate but I knew it would be the best way to protect her. I knew she was in love with a New York girl and I hoped she'd come here across the ocean - even though she was so young and I wasn't sure I'd ever see her again.' She starts to cry again. 'How was I to know that Eichhorst would be heading here a few years later on his Master's business?'

Dutch creeps closer to the banister to peer over and Sandra spots her.

'Please, Neels!' she cries. 'Let me explain.'

Dutch folds her arms and pouts in a 'this'd better be good' way. 'Those aren't dog bites, like you told me, are they?' she says accusingly, nodding at Sandra's neck.

Sandra hangs her head sadly. 'I'm sorry, darling,' she says. 'I couldn't tell my little girl the truth.'

'Well,' shrugs Dutch. 'I did wonder why we still kept the rotties.' She pauses. 'Did Dad know?'

Sandra is very solemn now. 'Yes,' she says and pauses. 'Cornelia there's something I have to tell you…Please understand why I kept it from you. Can we speak privately.'

Dutch looks around at everyone, nods and leads the way upstairs.

'Wait!,' says Fet, when Dutch has gone. 'What would happen to her if Eichhorst did find out?'

'He would find her, take her and drink her,' says Sandra. 'If she tasted good, he would milk her - like he did with me.'

'And if not?' says Fet.

'He'd either kill her or turn her,' she says. 'Though the latter is unlikely if I were still alive because he's always been so careful not to risk polluting my blood. That's why I've never had to kill any of my Loved Ones unlike the Professor. All I had to do was make my only daughter hate me enough to run away and stay away.' She smiles sadly and trots after Dutch leaving Richard and Karl standing awkwardly in the kitchen.

'Would you like some tea?' Neeva offers them.

* * *

When Dutch sees Sandra and her bodyguards out, Fet raises an eyebrow at her. 'Cornelia?'

'Now you know why I call myself "Dutch",' she says tartly.

'Couldn't you just use your middle name?' says Zack.

Everyone looks at her.

'It's Gude!' she says and stomps back upstairs.

* * *

 **Author's note: I know it has always been implied that, unless the victim is killed, "turning" is inevitable. However, the unfortunate young man in Eichhorst's feeding room at the beginning of _Occultation_ 1.06 is evidence that Eichhorst at least, can not only disengage well before exsanguination is complete but also prevent his prey being turned. The poor lad has stinger wounds over both femoral arteries and his right carotid and blood on the left side of his neck. He is still clearly human and healthy and has been there for days - judging by the empty food cartons and the fact that he recognises Eichhorst and is righteously terrified of him.**

 **I've explained this in _Another Season_ (and I'll go into it more later on) by Eichhorst's vanity and his belief that he deserves the very best in (un)life - the nicest suits, the swankiest apartment, the yummiest half-naked young men to snack on. Blood is not simply sustenance to him - it is a luxury. Once he finds someone particularly delicious, he will make them last by preventing the worms entering the person's bloodstream. Book 3 reveals the anatomy by which I have suggested this might be achieved. Again, I'll cover this later but I think it was a control he needed to learn. And he didn't learn alone. Not with t** **he Master - it wouldn't even cross his mind to attempt it. Food is fuel to him, the pleasure coming purely from control, destruction and inflicted pain.**


	4. Chapter 4

The Strain:Another Season  
Episode 5

...But not for everyone  
Chapter Four

* * *

Fet's place, Red Hook, Brooklyn

In the morning, everyone except Dutch has made it down to breakfast. Fet goes up to find her.

She's back on the computer but she smiles up at Fet when he knocks on the door frame. He's grinning mischievously.

'Sooo,' he teases. 'Cornelia Gude. Corny?'

She rolls her eyes.

'Corny Gouda? Horny? Hard Cheese?' he chuckles. 'I see now why you hate your mom so much.'

'Cornelia means strong one,' she says flatly.

'Even better!' exclaims Fet. 'Strong cheese – still works!'

Dutch sighs and glares at him. 'Cornelius was my late uncle's name,' she says. 'Or, as it turns out, my late father's name.'

Fet's smile drains from his face. 'Oh my God! Sorry kid.'

He sits down next to her. There's an awkward pause.

'And Gude?' he asks tentatively.

'My grandmother.'

'There's a story here, isn't there?' says Fet sympathetically.

Dutch nods.

'But it's none of my business,' he says, standing up.

He goes to leave then turns and adds, 'If you ever want to tell it - I'd really like to help. I'm not just a big insensitive, incredibly handsome meathead y'know.'

Dutch smiles weakly and nods.

On the way back down, Fet catches sight of something out of the living space window. 'Oh crap!' he says, then calls down to the others. 'Incoming! Lady Hitler's back!'

'Mr Fet,' says Setrakian sternly, using the honorific to chasten the big man. 'When she has orchestrated the demise of millions, you may call her that. Until then...' He gets up and opens the door.

Hurricane Sandra storms in, wearing a different trouser suit. Richard and Karl bring in a top of the range double treadmill and start to unpack and assemble it. A new face brings in three large daylight SAD lamps and starts to unpack and plug them in.

Sandra is carrying a box of good food (including fresh fruit, vegetables and meat), nicotine patches and nutritional supplements.

More boxes follow after the boys have installed the exercise machine and lamps. Some contain silver bullets and freshly forged silver-bladed weapons.

Sandra strides about with a bin bag picking up and throwing away all the alcohol and tobacco she can find. Nora snatches up a packet near her and scowls at Sandra.

'You want to beat vampires?' she says bossily. 'Super strong, super fast, hard to kill… You need to be the best humans you can be – fit and healthy. How much easier will you be to kill or turn if you're drunk or can't run up stairs?'

She holds out the bin bag, her hand on her hip and Nora sullenly drops the carton in.

Next for her attention are Neeva and the children. 'You should get the non-combatants out of the city. To an isolated island would be best,' she commands the room in general. 'And that includes Cornelia.'

'I'm not going anywhere,' says Dutch with finality from the top landing.

'Nor am I,' says Zack stoutly. 'I can fight too.'

'Then you can escort Keane and the ladies to safety,' says Sandra, smiling at his courage. Zack looks at Audrey and brightens. Being her knight in shining armour must seem very appealing to him.

'And you,' she says, rounding on Setrakian, who almost cowers for the first time in his life. 'I bet you've been getting by on HMO and Obamacare – treading water, never getting a proper diagnosis or finding out if there's a cure for your heart condition.'

'How do you know all this?' asks Setrakian, bouncing back.

'How has he been?' she asks the others. 'Has he had any episodes lately?'

'Don't tell her!' snaps Setrakian.

'Tell me what?' demands Sandra glaring at everyone there.

Fet wavers first and she plants herself in front of him, staring into his eyes like a cobra. 'Tell. Me. What?' she repeats.

'He collapsed the other night,' gabbles Fet. 'Said he faints sometimes.'

Sandra whirls round and stares at the old man accusingly.

Fet is abject. 'I'm sorry, Pops,' he says, cringeing away from Setrakian's disgusted gaze. 'But she's got these eyes...They're just like Dutch's...I can't resist.'

'You two,' she barks, addressing Eph and Nora. 'Call yourselves doctors? Have either of you ever even stuck a stethoscope to his chest?'

'We're epidemiologists not cardiologists,' says Eph defensively.

'Pathetic excuse,' she snarls. 'Come on, Professor. We're going to see what a real physician can do for you.'

'And you two,' she throws back. 'Don't just stand around feeling victimised - go and "epideme". Find an alternative weapon to pure silver and sunlight. Use this silver photographic emulsion to mix and match,' she points to several cartons in the ammunition box. 'I've brought you dog de-wormer, acyclovir and ZMAPP. Even that new anti-viral. Don't ask me to pronounce it...Or explain how I got it. Try it all. Do you even know what family of viruses it is? Would anti-retrovirals help? Do _something_ useful for God's sake.'

'You,' she says, suddenly turning to Fet and making him jump. 'You're a rat catcher - go trap some volunteer test subjects for them.'

She nods at the bodyguards, who leave first. Then she grabs Setrakian's hand and drags him out like a naughty child. The door bangs on her exit and Fet locks up again after her, before leaning with his back to the door.

'Phew!' he sighs. 'Did anyone else feel the urge to salute just then?'

'What an awful woman,' says Nora.

'You know,' muses Eph. 'I never thought I'd say this but you could almost feel sorry for Eichhorst.' He turns to Dutch. 'And for the first time ever, I'm beginning to have some sympathy for you.'

Dutch smiles wearily and Zack pipes up, 'Well, I like her.'

Fet turns and stares at the door. 'D'you think the old man is safe with her?' he wonders.

'I think so,' says Dutch. 'She seems to genuinely care about him.'

'She really does, doesn't she?' says Nora.

She starts rummaging in the boxes and pulls out some perfume with a label on it. 'It's for you, Dutch,' she says, reading the label aloud. 'Cornelia, wear lots whenever you go out – don't smell like you and don't, whatever you do, smell like me! Love mum XXX.'

'Of course,' says Fet. 'You don't want Eichhorst catching a whiff and associating you with your mother...'

'But you always wear plenty of perfume,' says Nora.

'Just as well,' says Eph. 'Cos you've wafted your delicious Edwards blood under Eichhorst's nose twice now.'

* * *

1989  
A feeding dungeon with less faux marble and soundproofing than Eichhorst's Stoneheart installation

The room is just a stone-walled, concrete-floored rectangle but the block is still there, along with the winch, attached via a chain to a collared Sandra. Presumably, the floor is heated (undoubtedly for practical, rather than compassionate, reasons) because, although Sandra's in her underwear, she is lying flat on her front, apparently asleep.

Scattered about are bottles of water – most untouched and fast food cartons – all untouched. There is a black plastic bucket. Someone has placed the cartons into neat heaps according to type and the water bottles are also kept neat.

The door opens, creaking menacingly and a suited Eichhorst enters, a horrible anticipatory smile on his human-looking face.

The sound of the door alerts Sandra and, spotting Eichhorst, she leaps up and walks towards him. She stops about a foot from him and, looking straight in his eyes, she tilts her head and pulls her hair away from her throat.

Eichhorst is taken aback and says, 'What are you doing?'

'I will NOT be a victim here,' she says defiantly.

Eichhorst actually laughs. 'How will you avoid that?'

'Well…,' says Sandra. 'I'm still alive and still human.' She examines her arms and hands theatrically, to demonstrate. 'This is because I'm tasty, yes?'

Eichhorst nods somewhat reluctantly and sighs. 'Uniquely so,' he admits. He prowls around and behind her while Sandra remains oddly calm – pleased almost. 'So British,' he continues. 'Mostly that Saxon I'm so familiar with here - with a strong streak of steely Viking. But a bit of Celtic and Hibernian…'

Sandra interrupts grinning. 'See - I knew you were a football fan.' But he ignores her and continues without a pause. '...With just a trace of warmth from the gallic Norman.'

He stands back and regards her admiringly. 'Pure Aryan,' he concludes. 'Yet layered and complex.'

Sandra turns to face him. 'So you intend to keep me healthy and unvamped to drink occasionally?' she says. 'For pleasure - like a rare and exceptional Armagnac?'

A pause. Eichhorst nods.

'Then give me dignity,' she demands. 'Clothes, a comfortable place to sleep. A _toilet.'_ She turns away to gently nudge the bucket with her toe for emphasis. 'And, please God, a _shower_! Oh and I think you've already worked out that you are what you eat, Thomas.' His face twitches. 'But some people are beginning to think we are what our food eats. I'll need plenty of iron and protein for a decent yield.'

Eichhorst looks like he's seen through her bravado. 'You're making a deal to play for time. Do you believe your hero will come to rescue you?

'He will.'

'He'll have a job finding us,' scoffs Eichhorst. 'We're in the East.'

Sandra is undeterred. 'He'll come.'

'I hope so,' he says.

'And he'll kill _you_ ,' says Sandra, with certainty.

Eichhorst sighs wearily. 'Yes, I expect he'll try.'

'I also want an interview,' she says. He raises his eyebrows and starts to protest but she anticipates and continues. 'Yes, yes. You're going to tell me I'll never get out of here to publish it. Nevertheless, I want to hear your story.'

He's really on the back foot now. His food has never spoken back before.

Sandra takes a deep breath and says, 'Then you can have my blood - I won't fight you.'

Eichhorst approaches slowly, smiling nastily. 'But I _want_ you to fight. I enjoy the taste of fear. Of adrenalin. It's tingly.' He continues in a more mundane tone of voice. 'Besides – when I drink adrenalised blood – I get a little juiced myself for a time. It sets me up for the day.'

Sandra's face goes from disgusted to determined. 'Well, tough!'

Eichhorst watches her like a leopard that's just had a captured gazelle sit up and blow a raspberry. 'Just how delicious do you think you are?' he says.

'Well,' says Sandra. 'I think I'm pretty bloody scrumptious, actually. Since I'm obviously pissing you off yet here I still am.'

He narrows his eyes but Sandra presses on regardless. 'Look, I _will not_ fight you,' she says. 'You can have me – I can't stop you. But any games we play will be to _my_ rules.'

She steps forward to completely close any space between them and boldly meets his gaze. 'Find another way to stimulate me,' she says.

Eichhorst briefly looks thoughtfully into the distance beyond her shoulder, then nods his " _zum Sieg"_ nod.

'I will,' he says, then turns on heel and leaves.

Sandra turns away, sagging a little as the brave front dissolves.

* * *

 **Author's note: Yes. I know what you're thinking, but please, just trust me.**


End file.
